


go-going-gone

by finkzydrate



Category: Football RPF, Sports RPF
Genre: Gen, Light Angst, No Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-07
Updated: 2013-07-07
Packaged: 2017-12-18 01:25:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/874091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/finkzydrate/pseuds/finkzydrate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"This conversation is starting to feel like a very unpleasant déjà vu, okay, I really didn't want to have it at all. I just keep wondering, over and over and over, it goes on in my head on a constant repeat. I keep asking myself, what's missing for you here? What wasn't enough for Mario, too? What's so amazing about Bayern? I feel like my head is going to explode soon, that's how bad it's gotten, do you understand?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	go-going-gone

**Author's Note:**

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> let's face it most of Marco's friends already left and Lewy's next.

Marco loves training, usually. He loves running around, stretching, he likes that particular feeling he gets in his muscles, the specific fatigue and the satisfaction he gets when he realizes he's still in perfect shape even after a few weeks of vacation.

He loves that, really. Just not today, he doesn't. 

The sun is shining angrily and it's too damn hot, he feels the heat settling in his bones, under his skin. Sweat is running down his brow, his hair is all wet and he doesn't think he can roll up his short any higher on his thighs. Not like it's helping the matter.

Kevin's jogging with him, he's in the same state, his grunting getting heavier with every passing minute.

"If I don't go drink some water right now, I think I'll pass out and die," Marco groans and Kevin tries to laugh at him, but it comes out as a weak puff of air. 

Marco jogs to one of the chairs left by the side of the pitch, where all the water bottles are and plops heavily on one of them. He drinks the cold water while looking at his teammates running around, all of them are red-faced and breathing heavily, sweat making their shirts looking darker than they really are. While he's looking around the pitch, enjoying the couple of free minutes he gets until Kloppo makes him go back to training, Robert gets closer and closer, looking as tired as Marco. He plops with an _ommph_ on the chair next to him, a water bottle already in his hand.

"I feel out of shape. Like I haven't trained in two months, oh man," Lewy is squinting at Marco, still trying to catch his breath.

"Yeah...I know how that feels," he lies, without looking at Robert, because he just _can't_ look at him right now. Lewy keeps on talking, Marco supposes he is telling a joke because he pokes him and laughs, pointing at one of his teammates, but Marco obviously misses the punchline. He's too busy feeling betrayed by one of his closest people. All over again.

"Hey, man, are you even listening to me?" Robert sobers up, seeing the serious look on Marco's face. "What's up with you today?"

"Nothing," Marco still refuses to meet the Pole's eyes and he feels that Robert really is worried, but he doesn't want to have this conversation, he doesn't have the heart to have it again.

"It's obviously something. Would you mind at least looking at me while talking?"

Marco faces him, then, and the look in his eyes has Robert on the edge of his seat. 

"You know you can tell me anything, right? I'm your friend," Robert tries again.

"Yeah, you are. And just like my other friends you're leaving, too," he says it quietly, not sounding angry or disappointed. It's more like a sad conclusion and that's the first time Robert has ever felt bad about his decision.

He suddenly feels very uncomfortable under Marco's intense gaze and he wishes the blond would look away once again, but Marco doesn't.

"Yes, I am leaving."

Marco gets this incredibly puzzled look on his face.

"This conversation is starting to feel like a very unpleasant déjà vu, okay, I really didn't want to have it at all. I just keep wondering, over and over and over, it goes on in my head on a constant repeat. I keep asking myself, what's missing for you here? What wasn't enough for Mario, too? What's so amazing about Bayern? I feel like my head is going to explode soon, that's how bad it's gotten, do you understand?"

It's time for Robert to look away now. He can't, for the love of God, find it in himself to answer Marco's questions. He feels like a complete douche because if he does answer him, he's probably going to sound like an arrogant asshole, who's looking for money or fame.

"I can't do anything for Dortmund anymore. I need to move on," he chooses his words carefully, they sound honest enough in his ears.

"That's bullshit. You know the fans love you, it's not like you've been here for a decade. You still score goals, you're still young and you can do so much more for the club, come on now, don't give me that crap," Marco pauses. "Is it money?"

"No, come on, it's not that. Though, they certainly are offering more money, yeah. I just - I need a bigger club, okay? I've grown too much as a player for Dortmund so I think it's time to go," Robert shrugs, meeting Marco's gaze, trying to figure out what the German's thinking by his expression, but Marco's not letting any emotions out on the surface.

"That's funny. Mario said he needed a bigger club, too. This is so ridiculous, I can't believe it's happening again," Marco groans and runs his hand through his hair in frustration. "Who's next? Kuba, too? Or what if _I_ signed for Bayern, too? I'm sure the Bavarians would _love_ to see us all signing for them! Just leaving the club one by one to join them until there's no one left, but _Kloppo_!"

Marco is waving his hands in the air and Robert is honestly a bit scared because the German looks angry. He looks around and sees people looking at them curiously because of Marco's sudden outburst.

"Marco, please don't do this here."

"No, I _have_ to do this or I'll just burst at the seams. It's okay, though, feel free to go, too, it's no big deal. Just try not to score against Roman this season, okay? You're still wearing the Dortmund crest over your heart, though it's probably red already."

With that Marco throws his water bottle on the chair he was sitting on a second ago and jogs over to Kevin, resuming his training.


End file.
